<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7458158991950489980</id><updated>2011-11-27T19:30:36.604-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom Running in the Rat Race</title><subtitle type='html'>I am a creative director, daughter, sister and wife. But first and foremost... 
I am a mom.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Daniella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03772504842806082673</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7458158991950489980.post-1306025178234193238</id><published>2008-03-09T21:38:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T22:37:09.541-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday Evening Blues</title><content type='html'>Well, It's that time again. Sunday evening. Everyone else is up in bed and I am on my computer contemplating my future. My career future that is. I look at the clock and realize that in less than 12 hours I will be rushing my son and myself out the door to get us to our respective destinations on time. The places that we spend more time at in a week than with each other. And with each drop off, a piece of my heart is left behind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not the working itself I mind. I love what I do. I am a creative director at a publishing company, I get to "play" a good portion of my week. Well, that's how I see it anyway. My husband insists I am a geek. I spent my whole life working to get to this point, my problem comes in that I have always deep down wanted to be my own boss and have my own company.  A successful company. And though I am driven and motivated and take risks in all other areas of my life, I have never quite been able to take that leap of faith in myself. To let go of the safety of that paycheck and benefits to create something great that will hopefully benefit other working parents looking for that same thing I am... satisfaction. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I said, it's not the working I mind, it's the lack of flexibility. It's the whispers from coworkers when your child's school closes for a snowstorm. The sad reality is, my husband and I are tormented over whether to have another child based on the cost of daycare and the fear my company may not agree to a partial telecommuting schedule for a year or 2. I fear not working at all, what if something were to happen to my husband, I might have to start over at a much lesser salary and benefits. Not to mention college and retirement. Yes, these are the things that keep me staring at my ceiling at night instead of getting the much needed sleep my body is craving right now. And it makes my heart ache when my 3 year old tells me he wants to be a brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do know one thing... should that second child come along and my company decide they would rather be rigid on rules than come into the present times for working parents, well maybe that is the push I need to get that business off the ground. And who knows, maybe that business could be my children's future someday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7458158991950489980-1306025178234193238?l=iamamomfirst.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/feeds/1306025178234193238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7458158991950489980&amp;postID=1306025178234193238' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/1306025178234193238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/1306025178234193238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/2008/03/sunday-evening-blues.html' title='Sunday Evening Blues'/><author><name>Daniella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03772504842806082673</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7458158991950489980.post-4742812056020454102</id><published>2008-03-06T22:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T23:03:08.972-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye winter</title><content type='html'>Spring is almost upon us. The clocks go ahead this weekend and slowly but surely the weather gets milder and warmer. Yay! I do not know who's getting cabin fever worse , my son or me. I am looking forward to walks on the boardwalk in the balmy summer evenings. To decompress from being Ms. take charge creative director and just being, fun mommy. Unbelievably my son does think I am fun. And funny. This is my most prized trait...I am funny. There is no work I consider greater or more successful than getting that uncontrollable giggle and smile from my 3 year old. So my spring resolution is to laugh more even at work, not take myself so seriously and get more sand between my toes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7458158991950489980-4742812056020454102?l=iamamomfirst.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/feeds/4742812056020454102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7458158991950489980&amp;postID=4742812056020454102' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/4742812056020454102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/4742812056020454102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/2008/03/goodbye-winter.html' title='Goodbye winter'/><author><name>Daniella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03772504842806082673</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7458158991950489980.post-4845708233014399476</id><published>2007-10-21T22:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-21T23:12:07.212-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The nightmare before x-mas</title><content type='html'>So here we are with the holiday season upon us. It's the time of year we need to sign up for what we will contribute to the class holiday parties, figure out how many days we have left to take off from work and allow for possible school assemblies and get all the gift shopping started and done. Did I mention family party planning? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At some point in my life my ambition got the best of me and I went full steam into my career and getting a master's degree to help me reach those ambitions. I guess in terms of my definition of success, I have achieved a small portion of what it means. Ok, so double my responsibilities and headaches. Managing 3 people at work is not much different than managing a 2 year old. I find myself needing to take a deep breadth and lock myself in the bathroom as much during the day as at night. In fact, I think the skills I have aquired as a parent help me be a better manager. That gets me to thinking... about that former friend who says women who work are greedy and selfish. Yes, maybe I will buy my son as much as I can afford for christmas. It's because at some point in my life my parents instilled in me a strong work ethic. They taught me to respect money and work hard for mine. They taught me the value of an education and to strive to be my personal best. What kind of world would this be if we all just wasted our talents and never wanted to be "more". There would be no art museums, no space exploration, no doctors or pharmacists. Imagine all the babies we would lose to a birth gone wrong? It is not greed. In most cases moms work because we have to, so what is wrong with wanting to be better and enjoy what we do if we have to leave our babies and get out there each day? Maybe as a society we do spend more than we need to, but just because we push ourselves to our fullest potential doesn't mean we should be condemned for wanting to make the most of that paycheck we need to get to the bank. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as I prepare to make the orange jello for the class Halloween party I think of my son and his friends and the smiles and giggles there will be at that table. I think of the "goody" bags I still need to fill. Greed? No. Maybe selfishness... I can't wait for those little smiles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7458158991950489980-4845708233014399476?l=iamamomfirst.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/feeds/4845708233014399476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7458158991950489980&amp;postID=4845708233014399476' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/4845708233014399476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/4845708233014399476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/2007/10/nightmare-before-x-mas.html' title='The nightmare before x-mas'/><author><name>Daniella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03772504842806082673</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7458158991950489980.post-757644578597854364</id><published>2007-07-23T21:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T21:49:01.065-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Interesting to note</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Sorry I have been gone for a while. Family issues needed attending to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also found in the meantime that some stay at home mothers find themselves taking on a holier than thou attitude. Now I know a lot of stay at home moms, many in my own family. It really puts a bad taste in your mouth though when some women think they have done some self righteous sacrificing thing by staying home. I know most of these moms will admit what they gave up, usually the ones who actually gave up a career. I find it strange that women who floundered around before having their husbands take on sole financial responsibility seam to think they have done some noble thing and attack working moms for their role as supporters of the household as well as raising children. A decent human being is not raised because a mother was home with him. A decent human being is raised when parents take an active role in their child's life whether those parents work or not. If you make a choice to live on one income, you cannot condemn a family that lives on two because they can have the things you cannot. Instilling good values and morals in our children has nothing to do with being able to take a family vacation, it has to do with providing the proper environment. It is very shallow to think that because someone is successful it means they are greedy. A parent does not have to live paycheck to paycheck on one income just to prove to their children they are good people. Working parents should be proud to be an example to their children for working hard and providing for their families.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7458158991950489980-757644578597854364?l=iamamomfirst.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/feeds/757644578597854364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7458158991950489980&amp;postID=757644578597854364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/757644578597854364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/757644578597854364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/2007/07/interesting-to-note.html' title='Interesting to note'/><author><name>Daniella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03772504842806082673</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7458158991950489980.post-5391222203063006682</id><published>2007-06-17T22:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-17T22:52:52.049-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Who decided the value of our families?</title><content type='html'>Lately I have been thinking a lot about the current state of family and work in our country. No, this is not a political issue, or maybe it should be. There was once a time, though for my 37 years, it was a brief time; when your company actually cared about you as a human being and cared about your family. When you went out on vacation, you were just that... out. Somewhere along the line we became a frenzied culture obsessed with hours logged on the clock and 24/7 accessibility. I cannot even remember the last time I actually took a vacation and did not stop to stress over the job. When did it become acceptable for them to reach us... ALWAYS? I am proud of myself for taking a stand for my own family last week. It was my son's moving up ceremony at his daycare. There was to be an assembly along with the pre-k graduation and snacks in the playground after. It started at 11:00. My husband stole an hour from work and came for the assembly to watch our guy sing and dance his heart out, which in and of itself was one of the greatest things I have experienced yet as a parent. Even though I was out sick with him the week before, I still took off the whole day for him. I was not going to rush to get there from work, then rush to get back to work leaving him wondering why his mommy and/or daddy was not there. I must admit, I did not think twice. This was a big day for my son, which made it a big day for me. I decided that my family was more important that day. How come this an exception and not the norm. When did we as parents decide that it was ok to lose the joys of being a parent? Did we allow this to happen while chasing the almighty dollar? Did anyone even realize it was happening? Is anyone happier? I'm certainly not. Here we are, one of the richest countries in the world, yet we are poor when it comes to quality of family life. Yes, I know there are some women who had no choice due to their circumstances, death, divorce, single parenthood. And believe me, I salute you. It's rough doing it with a partner, god bless you all who have to play both roles. But why is it we have become so out of control that a woman still needs to defend her choices... either way? Why do we need to appologize for being there for our family?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7458158991950489980-5391222203063006682?l=iamamomfirst.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/feeds/5391222203063006682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7458158991950489980&amp;postID=5391222203063006682' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/5391222203063006682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/5391222203063006682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/2007/06/who-decided-value-of-our-families.html' title='Who decided the value of our families?'/><author><name>Daniella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03772504842806082673</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7458158991950489980.post-9161263824489400146</id><published>2007-06-10T21:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-10T21:14:31.329-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't she get someone to watch him?</title><content type='html'>So, as you all know by now, my son is 2 years old. He was sick last week with a stomach virus. Anyone who has kids knows that when a baby is sick, they just want mommy(or daddy, sorry guys). At 2 years old, there's also slim chance they can communicate what's wrong. Enter mommy guilt again. It's not bad enough I had to feel guilty leaving work early to pick him up when I got the call from daycare and take off the following day and then morning after that; but to come back to work and hear that the question arose... "Can't she get someone to watch him?" My child is sick, who is anyone I work with to question who takes care of my sick baby? And you can rest assure it will be ME!!! Did I mention I always make up my time by working at 11:00 p.m. when these same people are either sleeping or out partying? I produce twice as much as any non-parent out there, yet the second I must step foot outside the office for my son, my work is questioned. In all fairness, I must say, it was not my manager who rose these questions, it was in fact women in the office. It amazes me how women fought so hard for equal rights and it is women who degrade mothers the most for wanting to also take care of our kids. Seams to me there is something wrong somewhere. Is it really possible to have a thriving career and a happy family?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7458158991950489980-9161263824489400146?l=iamamomfirst.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/feeds/9161263824489400146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7458158991950489980&amp;postID=9161263824489400146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/9161263824489400146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/9161263824489400146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/2007/06/cant-she-get-someone-to-watch-him.html' title='Can&apos;t she get someone to watch him?'/><author><name>Daniella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03772504842806082673</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7458158991950489980.post-8206659019324166409</id><published>2007-06-04T22:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T22:34:19.512-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What are we hiding from?</title><content type='html'>I found myself in conversation today with my new manager. Well, I have been at the job almost 3 months, so he's a semi-new manager. As we spoke about things to come in the department and each of our expectations of the future I kept finding that I was very conscious NOT to mention ever having another child. In my past experience with one manager in particular, who was a woman, she actually would out loud make it known she did not want to promote the women she thought may get pregnant. As a result I am very careful not to tell managers how much I love being a mom and spending time with my son. If I have to work, I certainly do not want to be looked over for promotions and raises. I find it crazy that I have been called "rock star" by  more than one HR personel, I have a Master's Degree and glowing references, yet I need to hide the fact that I may want more children. What a message to send the young folks of today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7458158991950489980-8206659019324166409?l=iamamomfirst.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/feeds/8206659019324166409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7458158991950489980&amp;postID=8206659019324166409' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/8206659019324166409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/8206659019324166409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/2007/06/what-are-we-hiding-from.html' title='What are we hiding from?'/><author><name>Daniella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03772504842806082673</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7458158991950489980.post-3877703029360666778</id><published>2007-05-31T21:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-31T22:00:15.813-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Where's the balance?</title><content type='html'>It's almost 10:00 pm and I finally have the chance to get to emails and do some research to help me with work tomorrow. As I sit here, I wonder, where is this balance I keep hearing so many "experts" write about. No working mother I know feels they have a good balance in their life. I know I don't. My entire career I pushed the envelope, kept my skills up to date and tried to remain in the front of the pack. I thought when my son came along that nothing about work would change. Guess what? Everything changed. I spent years working the "extended" hours to prove myself and gain the respect of colleagues and those in the positions I strived for, only to feel guilty now that I am a nine to fiver. Why should I feel guilty? Why should I care if the fellow in the next cube looks at his watch as I walk past at 5:15. Was I supposed to assume when I took my job that 9-5 actually meant 8:30-6:00? We are so busy working ourselves to death that we forget about what really matters in life. Cause let me tell you... I am not retiring any younger than my grandparents and I work a lot more hours. So if working moms are made to feel guilty FOR working, and still feel guilty for not working overtime... where's the balance?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7458158991950489980-3877703029360666778?l=iamamomfirst.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/feeds/3877703029360666778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7458158991950489980&amp;postID=3877703029360666778' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/3877703029360666778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/3877703029360666778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/2007/05/wheres-balance.html' title='Where&apos;s the balance?'/><author><name>Daniella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03772504842806082673</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7458158991950489980.post-2957349165747305654</id><published>2007-05-26T21:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-26T22:08:41.525-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A day in the life</title><content type='html'>To say I am tired is an understatement. Our typical day is up at 5:30 a.m., out the door at 8:00.  Drop off at daycare where it takes anywhere from 5 to 10 minutes to pry junior off me so I can get to work on time. Some days are easier than others at the release. Some days I sit in the car for a minute and cry because it was so hard and he was so upset I was leaving him. Enter working mommy guilt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have recently changed jobs so the end of the day is easier now. I used to get out of work at 5:30 and by the time we got out of the on-site daycare and battle traffic to get home it was about 6:30. Now I work till 5:00 and my son is in a daycare close to home, so my husband can pick him up earlier than I can get there. Huge help! And he even has dinner ready when I get home, which is by 6:00 now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner we go through the dinner cleanup and bath/bedtime routine. 9:00 p.m. and I can finally collapse on the couch before getting things ready for tomorrow. 10:00 and I am checking email and getting some work done. 11:00 bedtime routine and I crawl into bed where I am usually sound asleep by midnight. My one chance to just "be".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do we do this to ourselves and our families? Weekends are not even ours to relax and enjoy because that's when all the errands and chores need to be done. We work more than ever, with less to show for it and our families suffer. The kids, who will one day run our country. Will they be the ones smart enough to say enough? Will they be able to change the face of corporate america to accept family values once again?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7458158991950489980-2957349165747305654?l=iamamomfirst.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/feeds/2957349165747305654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7458158991950489980&amp;postID=2957349165747305654' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/2957349165747305654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/2957349165747305654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/2007/05/day-in-life.html' title='A day in the life'/><author><name>Daniella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03772504842806082673</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7458158991950489980.post-1190805794484505779</id><published>2007-05-23T23:03:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-23T23:07:53.098-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Starting a new chapter</title><content type='html'>So here I am, 2 months after my father lost his battle with cancer at the age of 65. His passing has made an incredible impact in my career driven life. I have realized I have the most amazing 2 year old who has spent all his days in daycare and at times when he was sick and needed me, I thought about work before him. Yes, I do feel guilty about this and though I can't take it back, I can vow to rank him and my husband where they should be... #1!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I am still in the rat race. I just have a new perspective on it and I wonder how in the year 2007 I am made to feel bad about being "a mom first".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7458158991950489980-1190805794484505779?l=iamamomfirst.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/feeds/1190805794484505779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7458158991950489980&amp;postID=1190805794484505779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/1190805794484505779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7458158991950489980/posts/default/1190805794484505779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iamamomfirst.blogspot.com/2007/05/starting-new-chapter.html' title='Starting a new chapter'/><author><name>Daniella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03772504842806082673</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
